SHE STILL LIVES

Sewer Lid

Copyright — Adam Ickes

This is my June story for Storybook Corner hosted by Adam Ickes. Each story is supposed to be from 300 to 500 words in length, or longer if thought necessary, and be inspired by the photo prompt provided that month by Adam.

http://adamickes.wordpress.com/2014/06/23/storybook-corner-prompt-june/

Genre: Horror Fiction

Word Count: 496

SHE STILL LIVES by P.S. Joshi

As old as oxygen, she now lived in the sewers of the city; there were no more caves. Caves were what she craved; cool and damp with the scent of the earth and the different animals that came. Eating them had filled her with strength and increased her power over life. Immortal, she wouldn’t have understood death.

Rats were plentiful, but she ate little these days and could feel her energy drain.  Sewage was gradually sickening her. She only knew she felt different. Was her life force leaving her after all these ages? What could she do? Survival once meant moving from caves to the sewer. Should she move out and seek other cover?

At times, other strange animals came, but didn’t stay long. They did something to the hard, hollow vines in her lair. Hiding was her protection against these animals. She hadn’t thought of them as prey; should she? They could be captured. Why not?

Raking her claws on the walls of her lair sharpened them. Saliva streamed down her chin as she thought of her new prey. This prey would take strength as did larger animals of long ago

Rob and Sid climbed down into the Summit Street sewer. A leak had been reported and they had to inspect for it. Sid was slender, Rob stocky. They started down the tunnel.

About one block along, Rob thought he heard footsteps, the splash of feet in the water. Something large moved off to one side. “Who would want to be down here besides us?” he asked in disgust. “It’s filthy and stinks.”

Sid had moved slightly ahead. He heard Rob’s last words, “…and stinks.” He heard no more. Turning, he glanced back. “What the hell?” Rob had disappeared. “Rob. Rob.” A patch of blood was smeared on the sewer wall, but nothing else.

Sid froze in place. That kind of fear hadn’t ripped though him since Afghanistan when he survived an attack by the Taliban. It all returned like a dreaded dream. His flight response struck in a rush and he started running until he spotted the next metal ladder. Grabbing for it, he climbed upward. In a surge of desperate strength he raised the heavy manhole cover which thumped onto the pavement. Boosting himself onto the night street, he laid still on the cool pavement, sucking in the night air. His heart banged so hard against his ribs it  threatened to burst through.

Within hours, a crime scene unit  searched the sewer. They found no body, just shredded clothing and blood.

It seemed she’d traveled a great distance from the city with the body of her latest prey balanced on her shoulders. At last she found a new cave, actually an old mine. Others like this one she carried were nearby in a small gathering of animal-made caves. She would now have all she needed to survive.

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WAR’S OVER

 

tree2bcrook

Copyright — Madison Woods

It’s time once more for the new Friday Fictioneers’ weekly story challenge. This weekly challenge is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt supplied for that week. The gracious hostess for this challenge is the talented author and artist Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week’s prompt is the Second Summer Rerun as Rochelle is enjoying a well-deserved vacation. It was first posted on August 16, 2012, and supplied by Madison Woods. Thanks again Madison.

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/06/25/27-june-2014-summer-rerun-ii/

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WAR’S OVER by P.S. Joshi

“Dad,” said Bob Jr., “Is it true that great-great-great-granddad Mitchell came home from the Civil War in 1865, put his gun in the old maple tree, and the tree grew around it?”

Bob Sr. looked at his son and become serious. “Yep, he sure did. He was sick of war and had seen both his cousin and his best friend die. It almost broke his heart. So he came back, put that gun in the tree, married his childhood sweetheard, and never used a gun in anger again. He always said there was no glory in war, only loss

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THE DISMAL FAILURE

 

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Copyright–Mary Shipman

Again it’s time for the new Friday Fictioneers’ weekly story challenge. This weekly challenge is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt supplied for that week. The hostess for this challenge is the ever gracious and talented author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week’s prompt is a summer rerun as Rochelle is on vacation. Enjoy your vacation Rochelle! It was first posted on May 1, 2012 and supplied by Mary Shipman. Thanks again Mary.

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/06/18/18-june-2014-summer-rerun/

Genre: Horror/Humor Fiction

100 Words

THE DISMAL FAILURE by P.S. Joshi

I came back. Too lazy to make a will, I died and my worthless nephew, Buster, got my money and house. Warned by the Higher Power not to seek revenge or I couldn’t move on, I didn’t listen. In this unfinished attic, I’ve planned that revenge.

 I’ve been a dismal failure. Buster didn’t hear the many howls or the chains since he’s a sound sleeper. He was thrilled about the skate on the stairs since he thought he’d lost it. Multiple sightings didn’t bother him because he thought he’d hallucinated. Really sorry now, I’ve asked just to move on. Please.

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Ready, Set, Go! With BedPak…

This looks like a great product.

TALES FROM THE MOTHERLAND

safe_imageThis is a different kind of post for me. No tear-jerkers or big stories to tell today. I must also say, for the record, I’m not being paid to promote BedPak, nor am I working on commission (a question that’s been asked).  I simply believe in this woman and this product. That said: I really hope you’ll check out this Kickstarter campaign and support the BedPak!

My friend Claudia is an incredible woman who does not sit still for a minute.  When we go for walks together, I huff and puff and try to keep up with her. Listening to her schedule for a day, let alone a week, wears me out! She’s a doer.  Claudia trained as a hair stylist and opened her own successful salon. When her boys got old enough to really need her around, she sold the salon and didn’t waste a minute overseeing home construction, soccer…

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FAMILY TEETH

 

teds-view

Copyright–Ted Strutz

It’s time again for the new Friday Fictioneers’ weekly story challenge. This challenge is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt supplied for that week. The hostess for Friday Fictioneers is the  gracious, talented, and dedicated author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week the prompt is a photo supplied by Ted Strutz. Thanks Ted.

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/06/11/13-june-2014/

Genre: Non Fiction

100 Words

FAMILY TEETH by P.S. Joshi

Each member of our family had a different dental history.

My brother, twenty years older, had a bridge. When I was little, he’d take it out to hear me laugh. He was missing every other tooth in one part of his mouth.

Dad went to the dentist once in his life, as a child. In middle age that tooth came out, but the filling remained.  Years later, Mom pressure cooked his food.

Mom was overjoyed to finally get upper and lower dentures.

Almost every tooth in my mouth was filled before age twelve by a dentist who didn’t use Novocaine; fun.

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THE ARTIST

 

hokusai4rwf

Copyright–Douglas M. Macilroy

Again it’s time for the new Friday Fictioneers’ weekly story. This weekly challenge is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s to have a beginning, middle, and end, and follow the picture prompt supplied that week. The hostess for this challenge is the gracious and talented author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week the prompt is a photo supplied by Douglas M. Macilroy. Thanks  Doug.

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/06/04/6-june-2014/

Genre:  Horror Fiction

100 Words

The Artist by P.S. Joshi

Brandon let himself into his aunt’s house  with his key.  He was an artist and his studio was in her attic. “Hi Aunt Nora,” he said as he passed her in the hall.

She smiled. “Hello there  Brandon.”

He felt great today and took the stairs two-at-a-time.

The doorbell rang. Two men stood outside flashing police badges.  Nora said, “Come inside,” and showed them to the living room.

“Have a seat, ma’am,” one said, showing her a drawing. “Do you know this man?”

She nodded. “That’s Brandon, my nephew. He’s upstairs.”

“Ma’am,” he whispered, “Brandon died yesterday. Hit and run.”

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